, 1887-09-20
thread for the .hroud Of her little Hanz.

She did not wish to wrap his. precious
body in linen that had been used, and she
had no money; and it was for this
reason hat she made her wheel rumble
with such funeral activity; but she did
not moisten the thread with her lips, as
was her custom; enough tears fell from
her eyes to wet it.
At the close of the sixth day Hanz
died. Whether it was from chance, or
whether from sympathy, the wreath of
the brier weed vine that caressed his
cradle languished, faded dried and let
fall its last crisped blossom on his bed.
When the mother was convinced that
breath had flown forever from the lips
where death violets had replaced the
roses of life, she covered the beloved
dead, took her package of thread under
her arm, and directed her steps to the
weaver's. -
Weaver" said she, ''here is some
very even thread, very fine and without
knots. The spider does no spin thinner
between the rafters of the ceiling. Let
your shuttle come and go; with this
thread must you make for me a yard of
linen, as soft as the linen from Frise and
from Holland"
The weaver took the skein, adjusted
AlAt " hlN AIS DuD1 DIlblllO, lux
the thread after it, began to fly back and
forth.
The hatchel frightened the wool and
the liner grew on the frame without I'M
evenness, without break, as fine as the
chfmise of an archduchess, or the linen
with which a priest dries the chalice at
the altar.
When the thread was all used the
weaver gave back the linen to the poor
mother and said to her, for he had I'M
dcrstood all from the unhappy creatures
look of fixed despair:
1.-The infant son of the emperor, who
died last year, in his little ebony coffin
with its silver nails, was not wrapped in
linen that was softer or finer"
Having folded the linen the poor
mother pulled from her wasted finger a
thin ring of gold, quite worn.
Good weaver, =" she said, ''take this
ring-my marriage ring-the only gold 1
have ever possessed"
The worthy weaver did not wish to
take it, but she said to him:
II nave no need of a ring there where
1 am going, for, l feel it, my little boys
arms drag me underground"
Then she went to the carpenters.
Master, in kindness take some oak
that will not rot and that the worms
cannot destroy; cut from 1t five large
planks and two that are smaller and
make with them a coffin of this meas
ure."
The carpenter took his saw and his
plane, arranged the planks, struck as
softly MS he could with his mallet, SO as
not to force the iron points into the poor
woman's heart before they entered the
wood.
When the work was completed one
would rave thought it, so carefully and
well made it was, a box to put jewels
and lace in.
Carpenter, who have made such a
beautiful coffin for my little Hanz, l give
you my house at the end of the village
and the little garden which is behind and
the well with its vine. You will not
have to wait long"
With the shroud and the coffin, which
she held under her arm, it was SO small,
she went her way through the village
streets, and the children, who do not
know what death is, cried out:
''See what q beautiful box of toys from
Nuremberg HAMS mother carries 10 him;
without doubt it is a city with its houses
In painted and vanished wood, its steeple
surrounded with lead, its battlements and
belfry and the trees, for the promenades,
all frizzed and green: or else it is a pretty
fiddle, carved, with a bow like q horses
name. Obi if we only had such a boxi"
And the mothers, growing pale, kissed
them and made them still. ''Impudent
ones that you are, do not say 80; do not
envy her her jewel box, the violin case
which one carries under the arm weeping.
You will have it soon enough, poor chill
dreni' When the mother of Hanz
reached home she took the tiny and still
lovely body of her son and began to dress
him for the last time, a toilet which must
be u very careful one, as it will last
through eternity. She dressed him in his
Sunday clothing, in his silken dress and
his pelisse, trimmed with fur, SO that he
would not be cold in the damp place
where he was going. She placed beside
him his doll with the enameled eyes that
he had loved so much that it had always
slept beside him in his cradle.
How she fingered over the taskl How
many thousand times she gave him his
last kiss! At the moment of smoothing
down the shroud, she perceived that she
had forgotten to put on the dead child
his pretty little red shoes.
She sought for them in the room, for
it hurt her to see pare those feet that, be-
fore SO moist and so rosy, were now icy
and pale; but during her absence the
rats, having found the shoes under the
bed, for want of better food, had nibbled
and gnawed them, and had torn the kid.
1t was a great grief for the poor mother
that her Hanz was forced to go into the
other world with bare feet; for when the
heart is one great wound it is sufficient to
touch it to make it bleed. She wept be-
fore these shoes; from those dry, in
famed eyes q tear could still gush forth.
How could she get some shoes for Hanz,
she had given away her ring and her
housed Such was the thought that tor
mented her. By dint Of dwelling on it,
there came to her an idea.
In the hut there remained still an en-
tire loaf of bread, for the unhappy one,
nourished by her grief, had eaten moth
ing.
She broke this loaf, remembering that
formerly, out of the soft part, she had
made pigeons, ducks, hens, sabots, boats
and other childish things to amuse Hanz
with.
Placing the soft bread in the hollow Of
her hand and kneading it with her